


Syntax

by Demonized



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Incest, M/M, Time Travel, written out of spite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22117030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonized/pseuds/Demonized
Summary: He makes his way past his desk and across the lobby, hoping that there's something lurking somewhere in the city that he can kill.There's not.It's not very surprising but it is frustrating.Frustrating enough that Dante takes a swing at the Divinity Statue he happens to find.
Relationships: Vergil/Dante (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

There are some things a person can't forget, like a feeling that cuts straight to the quick and leaves them floundering for air. Dante knows that feeling all too well—knows that it hurts worse than any blade through the heart—and sometimes he wishes he could forget it. Sometimes he wishes that he could just drown it out like he does his thoughts but it stays. It remains, much like the scars on his left palm, a constant reminder of his ultimate failure. The very same failure that resulted in those scars.

Dante had been young. He'd been far too stubborn. No, stubborn isn't the right word. Foolish. He had been far too foolish and angry and full of hatred towards anything and anyone that reminded him that he was a half-demon and it had cost him dearly. It had cost him his brother. His…

Seeing Nero had been quite the shock. It had made that feeling, that aching hurt, sharper and so much more profound that Dante had thought that it would eat him alive from the inside. It hadn't but that didn't change anything except to leave Dante wondering. Did Vergil know that he had left behind a son? It seems so unlike his twin, the Vergil that he recalls, and yet there is no other way to explain it. Dante had never bedded a woman, could not find it within himself to bed anyone for that matter, so Nero has to be Vergil's. He has to be and knowing that hurts so much more because Vergil…

Dante tries to not think about what he and Vergil should have had had Dante actually stopped and listened to his own damn instincts when he had awakened. Dante tries to not think that Vergil might have stayed for him or that Vergil might have let Dante go with him. Sparda had often told them that they were stronger together than they were apart on the rare occasions that he was home with them. Maybe then Vergil wouldn't have fallen to Mundus…

Dante closes his eyes and breathes in sharply. He holds the air in until his lungs start to protest for more and then he lets it all out before taking another, shallower breath. Sitting here stewing in what-ifs and maybes doesn't change a damn thing. It doesn't give him Vergil back, especially when Vergil is dead…slain by Dante's own hands. Dante's second greatest failure.

"I'd give anything to make things right." The words come out softly. A tremulous whisper spoken only to the quiet darkness of Devil May Cry's dusty and deserted lobby. Dante would never, ever speak them otherwise. Lady might understand but she still holds something of a grudge towards Vergil for Temen-ni-gru and Trish… Trish is a demon. Trish doesn't understand. She probably never will.

Dante sighs softly and cracks open his eyes as he leans back in his chair. The same old dusty and deserted lobby, dark because there's no power—no money to pay the bills—and darker still because it's the middle of the night, greets his gaze. Dante has little need for lights anyways, his sight quickly adjusts to the near pitch blackness and he sees everything with perfect clarity. If only he had seen with such perfect clarity twenty years ago…

"C'mon, man. There's no changin' the past," Dante mutters to himself. "It's stupid ta think that ya can." Stupid, like sitting in the dark and talking to himself. Christ, he needs to get out and do _something_. This isn't healthy and he _knows_ it. Dante _knows_ it very well and yet… all he thinks about is Vergil and what could have been—what should have been.

Dante forces himself up out of his chair and paces around the side of his desk. Rebellion heeds his silent call and flashes onto his back while he grabs Ebony and Ivory from where he'd set them aside earlier. He makes his way past his desk and across the lobby, hoping that there's something lurking somewhere in the city that he can kill.

There's not.

It's not very surprising but it is frustrating.

Frustrating enough that Dante takes a swing at the Divinity Statue he happens to find. Rebellion vibrates hard in his hand as her blade bounces off of the hourglass held aloft by the lion-headed goddess of space and time with a resounding clang. It's bad enough that his entire arm feels like it's going numb and he trots his teeth as he tries to get the vibrating to stop, his grip on Rebellion tightening.

It takes several minutes for it to stop and Dante's left scowling, more at his own stupidity than at the Divinity Statue. He turns on his heel, no longer interested in finding something to kill, and heads back to Devil May Cry. Behind him, the statue's eyes glow for a few seconds before it silently crumbles into a cloud of glittering dust that briefly swirls in the air then trails after Dante.


	2. Chapter 2

Devil May Cry is just as dark and dusty and deserted as Dante had left it, not that he's expecting otherwise. He tramps up the stairs, intent on just going straight to sleep, instead of heading for his desk to put away his weapons. It's not out of the usual for him these days, keeping Rebellion and Ebony and Ivory on him or close at hand.

Dante doesn't bother with kicking off his boots or even undressing. He only bothers enough to lean Rebellion up against the wall by his bed before he drops face-first onto it. The bed frame creaks in protest but it's sturdy and it holds and that's all that matters to him.

Sleep doesn't come to Dante easily nor for any substantial length of time. It's unusual for him, of course, and he blames his inability to properly sleep on the fact that he's still thinking about all those damn what-ifs and should-have-beens. When he does finally drift off it only feels like it's for a moment and the sunlight is now pouring in through his window.

Dante scowls as he rolls over onto his back only to realize that there is something incredibly different. It's something he should have noticed right away but at some point, during the night his state of dress has changed, drastically, and he can't remember when. That isn't the only issue, he realizes, because he tries to silently call Rebellion to him but the sword doesn't come. In fact, his senses seem like they're muted and to such a degree that he hasn't been at in a while.

Dante first suspects that some sort of powerful demon had managed to breach his defenses and completely bypassed his senses at some point during the night but it doesn't make sense. He's still alive, for one, and he's quite certain that there's not a demon capable of getting close enough to him without him noticing. Not after all the shit he's been through. Not unless he wants it to. Then there's also the fact that he's been undressed—down to just his pants—which, again, doesn't make sense for a demon to have done.

Discarding the thought that a demon is behind this—at least some random one—Dante sits up and looks around at his bedroom. This has to be one of Lady or Trish's pranks but Rebellion isn't even where he most certainly had left it while Ebony and Ivory aren't anywhere to be found on his bed or on the floor or anywhere else in the room. Now he's starting to panic because neither of the girls would do something like this to him. Spend all his money? Yes. This, however, goes beyond the pale. They would never leave him weaponless and in such a vulnerable state.

Something shifts around Dante's neck, the weight of it familiar enough that he hasn't forgotten about it, and his panic is temporarily broken. Part of him doesn't want to believe that he's wearing it—not when he knows that it should be fused with Vergil's half and stuck inside of the Devil Sword Sparda—but he reaches up and grasps his own of half of the perfect amulet. It certainly feels real enough, the silver warm from where it had been in contact with his skin, and it's leaving him with even more questions about his situation.

Letting the amulet drop back down to his chest, Dante eases himself off of his bed and cautiously makes his way downstairs. He doesn't necessarily like what he sees in the lobby if only because it looks exactly like it had before Vergil had raised Temen-ni-gru, and he can't quite make sense of it. It's a perfect recreation that has his heart hurting something awful. There's rage sparking just underneath the pain because this isn't cute. It isn't funny. It's downright cruel and it's pissing him off.

Dante grits his teeth, a growl bubbling up in the back of his throat and stalks over to Rebellion. That the sword is in its dormant state is something that he scarcely registers because as soon as he grasps the hilt the phone starts to ring. He turns and stares at the old rotary phone, his brows furrowing slightly with his confusion because the power should be out. The phone should not be ringing and yet…

Dante hefts Rebellion up, a feeling of unease making a pit in his stomach, and reluctantly grabs his coat. He dons it for the sake of convenience and because a part of him is starting to think that this mind fuckery just might be real. The more sensible part of him is still waiting to weigh in on the authenticity of his situation all while arguing that this could very well be a trap of some sort. An oh so cruel trap.

The phone stops ringing but the following silence is short-lived because the entry bell goes off as a man who should rightfully be dead enters his shop. Dante doesn't even hesitate. Real or not, he lunges for Arkham with every intention of killing him right here and now.


	3. Chapter 3

Attacking Arkham right away may not be the smartest move but Dante relishes in the look of surprise that flits across Arkham's face right before he predictably teleports out of the way. He'll relish smashing in Arkham's face even more right before he guts the man, if he can catch him. That will take some doing, especially with the state Dante is now in, but if Arkham is here… If Arkham is here, alive, and this is really real… _Vergil._

Dante doesn't want to let himself hope when he can't be entirely certain as to what this is but part of him hopes anyways. That same part of him wants for him to race to the top of Temen-ni-gru where Vergil will be waiting for him, if this is really what he thinks it is, but then what?

What is Dante supposed to say to Vergil? The truth? That he's not the little brother that Vergil knows? That Vergil will fall to Mundus just like before if he insists on fighting with Dante? That Dante might have to kill him again if that happens? Dante can't bear the thought of losing Vergil again. Not by his own hands and certainly not to Mundus. Dante would rather die before he lets that happen again but first…

Dante tightens his grip on Rebellion as he pivots on his heel to survey his office. Arkham has vanished completely and Dante surmises that the wannabe demon has run back to Vergil. He growls to himself, upset at the thought of Arkham being anywhere near his brother, and turns back around to look out at the city.

For a moment nothing seems to happen. No devils nor demons pop up behind him in his shop like the first time, not that he minds, but the difference is enough to make him doubt. Then the ground trembles and various alarms start to blare in the distance while the buildings no more than a few blocks away start to shift and then fall apart.

The blackened tower, unmistakeable, rises and before Dante can even think about it he's bolted, heading directly for Temen-ni-gru. That he's barefoot and armed only with Rebellion doesn't matter to him at this particular moment. He really doesn't need anything more than Rebellion and, once awakened, his demonic blood.

Dante swears that he catches a glimpse of blue, oh so vivid and the exact shade that he remembers Vergil to be wearing, just as the top of Temen-ni-gru leaves his sight and his heart lurches. Vergil is really here. He's _alive_. It's the only thoughts circulating through Dante's head as he pushes himself to move faster, to get to Vergil _faster_.

Demons finally start to make their appearance, all of them familiar enough, but Dante simply ignores them and just narrowly makes it past Love Planet when one of the buildings topples over onto the street behind him. He ignores that too, continuing on past where a Divinity Statue sits atop some rubble off to the right, and slows down as he reaches the icy entrance to the tower.

Dante scowls as he looks from the entrance up towards the distant top of the tower, his grip going tight on Rebellion once again. Scaling the outside of the tower will be close to an impossible task with how he currently is, from the demonic leviathan circling around the tower to the various other flying demons and devils, but he's buzzing with impatience and not really wanting to go through the gauntlet of trials that awaits him inside of Temen-ni-gru. Well, he knows how to rectify _that_.

There's no hesitation, not even the tiniest bit, as Dante turns Rebellion on himself and drives it through his sternum. It hurts, more so than is usual by virtue of having to pierce through his own heart, but it is a necessary pain and he grits his teeth through it. Hardly a second passes before Rebellion pulses and it is akin to a heartbeat that he can feel throughout his entire body. With it comes a rush of power that he eagerly embraces, setting his blood alight as he transforms with a primal roar.

It's hard to perfectly describe what it's like to regain the senses Dante had grown accustomed to over the span of twenty years, senses that he had come to rely on, but he can only equate it to drawing in a breath of air and being able to feel every aspect of it whereas before it had been so substantially less. He doesn't dwell on the differences too much because now that his demonic blood is awakened and his senses are back he finally quashes any doubts that he might have had.

There's no mistaking it. Dante can clearly _feel_ Vergil at the top of Temen-ni-gru and that cements his decision to scale the outside of the tower. He's not going to wait a second longer to see his brother and he's certainly not going to let Arkham get anywhere near either of them ever again, consequences be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started up a discord server called The Desk! It's not fandom specific and meant to be a place for artists, writers and people who enjoy their works across various fandoms to come together. To get to The Desk simply go to https://discord.gg/jXZQDdf

**Author's Note:**

> I've started up a discord server called The Desk! It's not fandom specific and meant to be a place for artists, writers and people who enjoy their works across various fandoms to come together. To get to The Desk simply go [here](https://discord.gg/jXZQDdf)


End file.
